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Authors: Mary Anne Wilson
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them.
Jack touched her shoulder and she jerked. “Stay behind me, and I’ll do the checking, okay?”
All she could do was nod.
“You might think about getting some boots to wear outside if you plan on doing much walking.”
Grace nodded again, and motioned vaguely for Jack to lead the way.
Boots. She’d get some first thing.
CHAPTER FIVE
J ACK WALKED , ADJUSTING his stride so Grace could keep up. He felt a tinge of guilt for the snake remarks. If there were any out, they’d be more afraid of humans than the reverse. He had impulsively offered this hike to implement the plan he’d come up with in the middle of the night. After talking to John, finding out what a “city” person Grace Evans was, he’d reasoned that she didn’t have an iota of an idea what it would take to restore and run the ranch.
He’d known he was right when he’d watched her pick her way through the trees, ducking to avoid branches she would have cleared even if she’d stood straight. Her body language said, “The less contact the better.” And he’d felt encouraged when they’d talked, when he’d shown her the dead land, hoping the work ahead of her would put her off And then she’d asked that question about why the ranch had sat untended for so long.
The past had intruded without warning, making him face things he never wanted to face squarely again. How could he have told her, “Because my wife was killed and my dad is a drunk.” He couldn’t even say those words out loud. Besides, she already knew too much about his family’s bad side. Instead, he’d mentioned the snakes.
A city girl? Absolutely. Her eyes had widened, and darted back and forth in search for something moving in the weeds. He’d almost felt badly for her, seeing her revulsion and fear. He’d told her to follow him, and she did, so close he could hear her breathing from time to time.
He kept going, uneasy. It hadn’t been like that when he was a kid, running over here every chance he’d had. He finally spoke, intent on skirting the painful memories, but putting this place in perspective. “When my brothers and I were kids, we used to come and stay with Grandpa. He’d put us to work with him, feeding the animals, helping with a produce garden from early summer to the fall. We’d follow him in the pastures, him on the tractor and us behind, breaking clods. We ate a lot of dust.”
“He worked you like that?” she asked, and he knew he’d been way off base thinking she’d be horrified at all the work it took to keep the place going. Instead, she was reacting to what she thought of as child labor.
He found himself explaining himself. He owed that much to his Grandpa. “We wanted to work with him. He was our hero.” Narrowing his eyes, he kept going. “He loved this place.”
Then another question took him off guard. “Why wouldn’t he let you work the land later, when he needed help?”
He stopped and turned to look down at her. “Well, because...we worked
with
him when we were kids. When he couldn’t work any longer, he didn’t want anyone else taking over. That sense of being able to do for himself was important to him. And for most his life, he could do anything.”
He cut off any more words, shocked that he’d disregarded his own plan not to tell her anything too personal. He headed off toward a long line of low-growing brush and weeds and stunted trees about three hundred feet away. He wanted her to see what lay beyond that barrier.
* * *
G RACE WISHED J ACK would keep talking. She was fascinated by the change that came into his voice when he spoke about his grandfather and brothers and it kept her mind off snakes.
She loved her mother, but longed for a larger, close family. She’d never had grandparents. Her father had told her mother his folks were “no longer” in the picture, and her mother’s parents had passed away when she was a teenager.
They had some family on the East Coast—on her mother’s side, but her mom
Jack touched her shoulder and she jerked. “Stay behind me, and I’ll do the checking, okay?”
All she could do was nod.
“You might think about getting some boots to wear outside if you plan on doing much walking.”
Grace nodded again, and motioned vaguely for Jack to lead the way.
Boots. She’d get some first thing.
CHAPTER FIVE
J ACK WALKED , ADJUSTING his stride so Grace could keep up. He felt a tinge of guilt for the snake remarks. If there were any out, they’d be more afraid of humans than the reverse. He had impulsively offered this hike to implement the plan he’d come up with in the middle of the night. After talking to John, finding out what a “city” person Grace Evans was, he’d reasoned that she didn’t have an iota of an idea what it would take to restore and run the ranch.
He’d known he was right when he’d watched her pick her way through the trees, ducking to avoid branches she would have cleared even if she’d stood straight. Her body language said, “The less contact the better.” And he’d felt encouraged when they’d talked, when he’d shown her the dead land, hoping the work ahead of her would put her off And then she’d asked that question about why the ranch had sat untended for so long.
The past had intruded without warning, making him face things he never wanted to face squarely again. How could he have told her, “Because my wife was killed and my dad is a drunk.” He couldn’t even say those words out loud. Besides, she already knew too much about his family’s bad side. Instead, he’d mentioned the snakes.
A city girl? Absolutely. Her eyes had widened, and darted back and forth in search for something moving in the weeds. He’d almost felt badly for her, seeing her revulsion and fear. He’d told her to follow him, and she did, so close he could hear her breathing from time to time.
He kept going, uneasy. It hadn’t been like that when he was a kid, running over here every chance he’d had. He finally spoke, intent on skirting the painful memories, but putting this place in perspective. “When my brothers and I were kids, we used to come and stay with Grandpa. He’d put us to work with him, feeding the animals, helping with a produce garden from early summer to the fall. We’d follow him in the pastures, him on the tractor and us behind, breaking clods. We ate a lot of dust.”
“He worked you like that?” she asked, and he knew he’d been way off base thinking she’d be horrified at all the work it took to keep the place going. Instead, she was reacting to what she thought of as child labor.
He found himself explaining himself. He owed that much to his Grandpa. “We wanted to work with him. He was our hero.” Narrowing his eyes, he kept going. “He loved this place.”
Then another question took him off guard. “Why wouldn’t he let you work the land later, when he needed help?”
He stopped and turned to look down at her. “Well, because...we worked
with
him when we were kids. When he couldn’t work any longer, he didn’t want anyone else taking over. That sense of being able to do for himself was important to him. And for most his life, he could do anything.”
He cut off any more words, shocked that he’d disregarded his own plan not to tell her anything too personal. He headed off toward a long line of low-growing brush and weeds and stunted trees about three hundred feet away. He wanted her to see what lay beyond that barrier.
* * *
G RACE WISHED J ACK would keep talking. She was fascinated by the change that came into his voice when he spoke about his grandfather and brothers and it kept her mind off snakes.
She loved her mother, but longed for a larger, close family. She’d never had grandparents. Her father had told her mother his folks were “no longer” in the picture, and her mother’s parents had passed away when she was a teenager.
They had some family on the East Coast—on her mother’s side, but her mom
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